


Bonded

by Little_Corners



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-01-30 20:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12660678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Corners/pseuds/Little_Corners
Summary: Shadow and Sweeney end up soul bonded for reasons that the author chooses to blithely gloss over. Wednesday thinks it's hilarious. They do not.





	1. Day 1

Day 1.

‘Wake up you fucker.’

Shadow was aware of the voice before anything else, something solid amongst the darkness in which he found himself.

‘I ain’t carrying you. I’ll leave you here to rot.’

Slowly, his awareness began to spread, probing out in to the nothing until…yes, there was the rest of him, now sharply in focus. His face was pressed against the cold floor, one arm twisted painfully to his side, his muscles stiff and tight. And his head was killing him, like a fucking vice pressing in to his temples. He tried to open his eyes, but the light made him wince.

‘There you go big man. Up you get.’

Against the throbbing pain, Shadow felt a warm pressure across his back. Sweeney’s hand lingered a moment before giving him a reassuring, somewhat awkward, pat. As Shadow tried to open his eyes again, he saw a pair of boots stumbling away from him. Clearly Sweeney was suffering as much he was.

‘Did it work?’

As Shadow pulled himself up, he felt the tackiness under his skin and saw, with bile rising in his throat, that he had been laying in a pool of dried blood. It wasn’t his. It felt as if there had been an explosion, although he didn’t remember one. There was a faint ringing in his ears and when he spoke, his voice sounded far away and under water. Sweeney had made it to a chair and was lighting a cigarette. There was blood on his hands and under his finger nails, matted in to the hair of his forearms. But like the stain on the floor, and on Shadow’s clothes, it wasn’t his. He blew a plume of smoke up in to the air, and considered Shadow’s question for a while as he let the rest of the cigarette burn down. He seemed to be trying to assess something that Shadow couldn’t see. Eventually, he nodded.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I think so….’

He took another long drag and burned the cigarette down to the filter, stubbing it out on the table. The room they were in was pretty empty, except for a few tatty looking pieces of furniture. The previous occupants had not left much, and thieves had taken anything else worth having. The upper floors were all but crumbled away, and there was no glass in the windows. Wednesday had chosen it because it was remote; an old farm house in the middle of nowhere, quiet and undisturbed. Perfect for the kind of messy, secret rituals he wanted done. Shadow remembered the way the poor goat had twitched as it died. Why a fucking goat? Seriously, of all the clichéd fucking stereotypes…. And then he’d realised that of course it couldn’t have been anything else. That was how this thing worked. Stereotypes. Archetypes. Prototypes…. Still, he really wished he hadn’t had to see it.

After that, he couldn’t really remember. There had been a noise; a slow, low, dark whine that ran up from the ground and had gotten louder and louder. And the smell of burning, when Sweeney lit the fire. He saw now that there was ash still floating in the air around them. He didn’t want to turn around, towards the hollowed out shell of the kitchen where the whole grisly business had taken place. All that mattered now was that it was done, and Sweeney seemed to think it had worked. Wednesday would be pleased and they could get on with whatever ridiculous thing he had planned next. And he could forget about this this sad, lonely house and the ringing in his ears. He stumbled to his feet and took some tentative steps. His body seemed to remember what to do.

‘My head meant to pound this much?’

Sweeney chuckled, lighting another cigarette. There were no other chairs, so Shadow lent against the table. Movement made the throb worse, and his legs still felt fragile. He eyed Sweeney from under his brow. Up close, the leprechaun looked fairly untouched, save the blood and the rumpled clothing. But as he was watched, he saw the slight shake to his hand.

‘Yeah, it will. Feels like you’ve been skull fucked by king kong. This’ll help.’

He fished in to his pocket and brought out the flask he always carried, waving it towards Shadow with a crooked smile. Shadow watched it suspiciously, making Sweeney laugh.

‘Don’t worry. It’ll all be back to normal tomorrow.’


	2. Day 3

Day 3.

 

‘l’ll take that bet’ Sweeney smiled lopsidedly, downing another shot. The man at the other side of the table snorted ruefully.

‘I don’t know man, I’m having second thoughts here. You’re a big fella.’

Sweeney shook his head and laughed.

‘Oh no no no, terms have been set. You can’t walk away now.’ He leant back to get a better view of the man who’d challenged him. He looked fit but not strong. Maybe nearly 40, more than a few grey hairs. Probably went to the gym and to get those vanity muscles popped but didn’t do much with them. Easy money. He was pouring them both another shot from the bottle he had somehow acquired. Sweeney was surprised when he saw how little was left. _How long have we been here? I haven’t had that much…?_

‘C’mon’ he said, with the beginnings of a slur. He propped his elbow up on the table with his palm open. His hand was nearly as big as the man’s face and he laughed again. ‘On the count of three. I’ll go gentle.’

Shadow was watching from across the bar. The man was clearly trying to get Sweeney drunk, and it would have worked had Sweeney been a smaller man, but 6 foot 6 of Irish can hold a lot of liquor and when there’s pride at stake, a whole lot more. Shadow smiled in to his beer as he heard the other man yowl. He looked up to see Sweeney swaggering back to the bar, pushing bills in to his breast pocket.

‘You find that fun? Taking money from chumps?’

Sweeney pulled up a stool, looking at him darkly.

‘Easy money. I don’t make them do it.’ He went back in his pocket and pulled out the crumpled wad, tossing them towards Shadow.

‘Pays for your drinks anyway.’

Shadow smiled thinly, unfurling the money and pressing it flat again. There was over 100 bucks. The man must have really thought he had a chance.

‘Yeah, well maybe tomorrow. I’m calling it a night.’

Shadow hadn’t been drinking that much. It would only be his third, and he’d had more, and stronger, before without feeling this way. But for the last few hours there’d been this low and persistent buzzing in his temples and his throat felt dry and scratchy. When he tried to think it was like a wad of cotton in his head. It felt like tiredness but more foggy. He’d been feeling tired all the fucking time recently, these waves that just seemed to wash over him at odd times. Bone tired. Maybe he was coming down with something. He made to stand but Sweeney reached out and clumsily grabbed his jacket with his fist, holding him back.

Something cut through Sweeney’s hazy, drunk mind with a sharp, almost painful, clarity. All night, there had been nothing but the ever increasing easiness of alcohol, slowly slipping in to his veins. All night, nothing but softness, as he made the edges of the world blur and fade until all that noise was washed out. It was a trick as old as stone, nothing that clever to it. But now his teeth were suddenly on edge and he felt all his muscles tense and he was ready right now to swing, fuck! _Where the hell did that come from?_ He felt like he’d been scalded.

‘Don’t start’ Shadow was saying, shrugging his arm free. Sweeney looked at him blankly, trying to understand what was going on, and he realised that Shadow hadn’t noticed. _Why hasn’t he noticed?_ It felt almost suffocating. But there was something about that feeling that was alien to Sweeney. He knew what it tasted like to want to fight, and it was always a heat in his belly, a warmth that came from anticipation. This was cold, and angry, and bristled across his chest. And then, just like that, it faded away. As Sweeney watched Shadow leave, he was vaguely aware of the thought forming somewhere in his mind, understanding it only briefly before the softness returned to wash it all away. By the morning, he had forgotten it entirely.


	3. Day 4.

Day 4.

 

They were at a motel, waiting for Wednesday to stop sweet talking the girl at the desk, and Sweeney was tried. He’d been thinking about bed for the past three hours, cramped up in the backseat of the car, and he wanted the softness of a mattress under his back so bad. The girl was young, maybe no more than 20, and with that white blonde hair that he knew Wednesday liked. Not a natural blonde though -  her roots give it away - but she was making up for it by smiling too wide every time Wednesday made a joke and licking her lips as she watched him talk. Sweeney didn’t need any special powers to know she’d be in Wednesday’s room later that night. He found himself momentarily imagining the sound she’d make if you kissed her. What colour her skin might flush. It had been too long since Sweeney had someone under him, but his thoughts only made him angry. He leant against the office door frame and exhaled loudly, shoving his hands down in to the depths of his pockets. He knew Wednesday could hear him, but it didn’t hurry him up one bit. Eventually, Wednesday’s game reached a natural pause, room keys were distributed, and Sweeney could escape back to the safety of the parking lot. The girls’ eager laughter was still echoing in his head when he reached Shadow, waiting in the car. He threw one of the keys through the open window, the oversized plastic key fob hitting Shadow in the chest with a satisfying thud. Shadow opened his eyes slowly, sighing.

‘Thanks’ he said dryly, turning the radio off and retrieving the key from the side of the chair. ‘And you’re fucked off because…..?’ He gestured towards Sweeney, expectantly. Sweeney narrowed his eyes.

‘Oh ok, just plain old regular fucked off, I see. Great, well I’ll see you in the morning.’

He gave a mock cheery wave as he locked up the car and started to walk away, ignoring the sullen snarl that was beginning to form on Sweeney’s face. He wondered if maybe he’d been ignoring this tiredness that suddenly seemed to find him again; he’d been driving all afternoon and hadn’t felt anything but alert and bright -  the first time in days in fact. It was only now, opening the motel room door, he felt the undeniable urge to close his eyes and sink in to warmth and darkness. He suddenly wanted to be in bed more than he’d wanted anything all day. That wasn’t like him. But there was a bed, and it looked warm. And there was darkness too, with the blinds drawn. Wednesday had said they’d be here all night. There was no need to rush.

Unknown to Shadow, Sweeney had been given the room directly above. And unknown to Sweeney, for a few peaceful minutes at least, Wednesday had the room next door to his. Sweeney realised this just as he was about to fall asleep, when he heard a familiar eager laughter through the thin motel walls, mixed with Wednesday’s deeper muffled baritone. He couldn’t tell exactly what they were saying, but the cadence of their voices made it obvious. He cursed loudly and considered his options, as the low creak of bodies moving on to furniture began to replace the sound of laughter. He turned the TV on, some stupid cooking show, and threw up the volume. It worked for a time, but the presenter was an idiot and now he was annoyed by both her and the very determined thudding rhythm that was now echoing right by his head.

He swore again and banded his fist against the wall in return, but it only seemed to spur the old fucker on. In frustration he threw the bedside lamp at the TV, knocking it spluttering to the floor with a crash. In the sudden stillness that now surrounded him, the sound of their fucking was even more obnoxious. Angrier now than he could stand, made worse by tiredness, he could feel rage building in his belly with a familiar excitement. It demanded release. It pounded against his ribs, wanting to be made right. Sweeney was on his feet before he could think, his hand at the door, ready to bring down the full weight of it on to someone’s face, to feel that tension melt away in the crushing of something beneath his fist.

But no. The realisation kicked him cold right in the gut as he remembered where he was. Whose face exactly could he crush? What exactly did he think would happen if he kicked down that door? _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._ He thought briefly about Shadow beneath his feet and wondered, just for a second, if maybe…..

He roared his curse in to the emptiness and flung himself back on to the bed, breathing hard. Grabbing a pillow, he pressed it over his eyes and ears and in the muffled dark, he tried instead to will the feeling away, to think about something else, to be somewhere else. He’d had to do this before, when time and circumstance had demanded a different course of action. It was difficult but he could do it if he tried, and could bite down hard on his anger until it began to feel far less solid. Despite the pillow around his face, he could still hear the stifled sounds from the girl next door. An almost desperate moaning. A sudden gasp. The quickening thud thud thud. In to the silence of his mind, a smug little voice poked it’s head up. _You know what else helps, don’t you…?_

 

Down below, Shadow was in that strange little twilight between sleep and wakefulness, just tipping across the boundary in to something pleasant and dreamless. He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, just allowing the process to unfold, enjoying the softness of the bed and weight off his feet. At first, he wasn’t even aware that something was changing. He didn’t feel the tingling in the top of his legs, or the small of his back. He didn’t feel the tension that it gave way to, or the little pink pricks of gooseflesh that spread out from his pelvis across his arms and legs, his neck and chest. He only really began to notice when his dick began to swell and press against his jeans. Grunting softly, he shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease something he wasn’t fully aware of. It didn’t help. He moved unconsciously, his hand grazing against the denim of his crotch, but touch made it worse. He moaned a little louder, and ground his hips down in to the bed. Sleep was still clutching at his mind, keeping him hazy, but his cock was now almost painfully hard. In the back of his mind, an image was coming in to focus. Half formed, silent, not his own. A woman with bright blonde hair and a large, wide smile. Thick, red lips, softy parted. Pale skin, flushing pink. Moaning in to his ear as she sat on top of him.

 Shadow opened his eyes with a start, too many feelings all at once and all very confusing. A moment of not knowing where he was. The desire for a woman he had never seen. The absolute and undeniable need to cum. Now. Fuck, he hadn’t felt this turned on in ages. It was more intense for the lack of build-up. No nice preamble, no gentle flirtation, just a raw animal need to release. He had to touch himself. His hand slipped easily under the waistline of his loosened jeans, wrapping around his dick with little care. He moaned.

The thoughts in his head kept coming, kept changing, just impressions really rather than something fully formed, but they all involved her. She wasn’t real. She was every woman Shadow had ever lusted after, her hair becoming dark and wavy, her eyes now green, now blue, now black, her skin soft and plump, her breasts, her arms, her thighs, all changing. And Shadow felt anger too. Rage almost. Not at her, but at something just beyond her, something far away, something bigger. He was rubbing his dick so hard now it felt raw, but he couldn’t stop. He bucked his hip, pushing himself upwards in to his hand, wanting more. The feelings in his head were coming faster, and more confused. He had never had a wank like it. _What the hell is going on?_ He wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill or to fuck, except he knew he was close, and so he kept up the furious motion. Any moment now, any fucking moment, _oh god, I need this so much._

And just as he was about cum, just as the feeling became almost too intense to handle, he saw himself. Closed eyes, arched back, mouth open, an image of himself, bearing down on him. _What the fuck? What the actual fuck?_ But it was too late and he was there, shooting ropes of cum across his hand and the bed. He came with gritted teeth and a roar, pushing upwards, the last painful moments a complete and utter blur. Afterwards, laying there breathless and wet, he looked up at the ceiling with a look of deep, deep confusion and a feeling that something extremely strange had just happened.


	4. Day 5

Day 5.

 

‘What do you mean, exactly? I don’t….’ Shadow struggled for the words, dragging his fingers across his head. Wednesday was being less than helpful. He took a small sip from his coffee and offered a benign smile.

‘I mean’, the old man said, patronisingly slowly, ‘that you are, for a short time one hopes, bonded.’

Sweeney banged his fist on the table so hard the coffee spilt. Wednesday merely raised an eyebrow.

‘Like fuck we are. How do you undo it?’

‘You don’t. It’ll wear off eventually.’

Shadow and Sweeney looked at one another. Sweeney’s lip was twisted in to a tight snarl, and Shadow could feel his frustration slap in to him like an actual fist, leaving a loud hum in his ears.

‘You wanna try and keep that down?’ he said coldly. ‘I’m not exactly thrilled about this either.’

‘You have to find a way’ Sweeney said, with a tinge of desperation, ignoring Shadow. ‘What if he fucks off, yeah? Or I do. Till this wears off.’

Wednesday entertained a small chuckle, and for a brief moment both Shadow and Sweeney felt their respective angers swell in harmony.

‘It doesn’t work on a basis of distance I’m afraid. As long as the bond lasts, you’ll have this connection no matter where you are. And quite frankly, I can’t afford to lose any time in having one or both of you disappear so we’re just going to have to manage.’

‘We?’ said Shadow sarcastically. ‘You haven’t got this fucking manic in your head.’  He could see Sweeney glowering at him from the corner of his eye, but amongst the indignation that the Leprechaun was swimming in, Shadow could feel a shiver of embarrassment. He tried to ignore it, and try a different approach.

‘Is there anything we can do? Anything to block it out, make it less…..inconvenient?’

Wednesday considered them both in a calm, measured manner. He seemed to be thinking on the question deeply for once. He looked back down at the coffee and titled the little cup in his hand back and forth. He sniffed.

‘No.’

Sweeney exploded, leaping to his feet. Shadow felt the whole table tilt, Wednesday’s saucer falling to the floor, cutlery bouncing off the tiles.

‘This is some goddammed, grade A type of shite! You get this out of my head now or I swear on the trees, I’ll walk right now and fuck every last motherfucking one of you and your fucking plan!’

The whole café had turned to look at them. A stony faced waitress was already walking over with a determined stride. Shadow sighed and felt himself sink down further in to the chair, preparing for the inevitable. Wednesday however merely regarded Sweeney with an expression of blank banality, placing his coffee carefully down on the table, and waited. As the waitress approached, the change in his demeanour was as fluid as smoke. He was on his feet in an instant, sweeping her under his carefully placed arm, speaking soft, earnest apologies laced with remorse. A sad story, no doubt, about his poor nephew just given terribly sad news about an ailing relative. He had no one else you see, but him, and the drink. Wasn’t it tragic? She was a kind woman, he could tell. A mother herself, with that no-nonsense attitude. Shadow couldn’t hear how the tail ended, as Wednesday took a seat at the counter, the waitress now pouring him a fresh coffee and smiling.

Sweeney was in no mood to hang around. Shadow decided he better follow him, although if you were to ask him why, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. In truth, that shiver Shadow had felt earlier, that awkwardness under the anger, had lingered with him. It was uncomfortable as it was familiar, and he wanted it gone. He found Sweeney sitting in the driver’s seat of Wednesday’s car, hands tight on the wheel, eyes ahead, jaw taunt. He didn’t turn as Shadow got in beside him. They sat for a moment in silence.

‘Listen, I think if he could get us out of this, he would’ Shadow ventured. Sweeney drummed his thumbs on the wheel, his knuckles still white, and snorted dismissively.

‘You think, do you? You think he wouldn’t like to watch us twist just for the fun of it?’

Shadow felt the new feeling swell across his neck and shoulders; a coldness, tight and hard, full of bitterness. And again that little shiver of something underneath it all, except this time it was just sad. A pulling, sucking sadness. It took Shadow by surprise, and it must have shown on his face. Glancing over, Sweeney’s eyes narrowed.

‘Don’t you fucking do that. Get the fuck out of my head you fucking arsehole.’

Shadow corrected himself, trying to shake the feeling free, holding his hands up in surrender.

‘I can’t control it. You know that. I don’t know what’s happening here.’

Sweeney bristled but seemed to accept it. He remained tense though, every part of him looking as if it were ready to bolt.

‘We need to figure out a way to manage this’ offered Shadow, carefully. ‘This isn’t easy for either of us. But I wanted you to know, for me, I can’t read your mind or anything. I don’t want to. It’s just, like, these impressions sometimes, and these feelings. I’ll just ignore them, ok? We just need to agree to ignore them.’

Sweeney did not seem to relax, but Shadow could feel that cold feeling in his shoulders seem to ebb away. Whether that was because Sweeney no longer felt it, or because Shadow couldn’t sense it, wasn’t yet clear. Sweeney sucked the air though his teeth and seemed to be thinking. Shadow wondered if he was trying to sense him too, suddenly hyperaware of every little thought and feeling that was, or might be, running through his head. _Jesus this was going to get tiring really quickly._ He tried to breathe a little deeper, and let it go.

‘We don’t talk about it. Ever’ said Sweeney, eventually. ‘You keep out of my way, I’ll keep out of yours, and everything will be just peachy. Ok?’

Shadow nodded silently, and headed back to fetch Wednesday.


	5. Day 7

Day 7

It’s difficult to keep out of a person’s way when the space you both occupy is the size and shape of a car. Sweeney decided to deal with this by just not speaking, expect for a few grunts or mutterings when he absolutely had to. Shadow decided it was best to just ignore Sweeney entirely, and act as if there isn’t a giant brooding Irishman behind him with his knees digging in through the back of the seat. Imperfect, but it was an approach that seemed to work at first. Except now they’d been driving for almost two solid days and the wear and tear was starting to set in hard.

Wednesday had insisted that they had to keep moving, although wouldn’t give them any tangible explanation as to why. Since yesterday, they’d stopped only to piss or to switch drivers, and slept in a truck stop lay-by, despite passing more than a few decent looking motels along the way. Now, as the evening of the second day pressed down on them, and Wednesday was still insistent that they had more miles to cover before they could stop, Shadow had reluctantly begun to think that maybe the old man wanted them all stretched out thin like this. All day, he had peppered his conversation with little jokes at their situation. All day, he had rubbed and niggled and poked at them both in seemingly innocent little ways. Shadow recalled the conversation he and Sweeney had had a day prior in the car park of the café. For a man as perceptive of human emotion as Wednesday, it seemed incredibly short sighted of him to not notice how tense and shitty everyone felt. So incredibly short sighted in fact, that it probably wasn’t at all.

The long stretches of silence were good for thinking though, and Shadow spent them mostly trying to work out if there was any pattern to the way this bonded thing worked. He had concluded, frustratingly, that there didn’t seem to be one. Sweeney’s psyche imposed itself on him in fits and starts, jolts of feeling here and there or sometimes a more lingering connection with an image or two. Intensity was the only real factor. The stronger the emotion, the stronger Shadow felt it and the longer it seemed to hang around. So far, he knew that Sweeney felt anger and hunger and tiredness the most deeply and the most often. He also knew that it was sometimes a little tricky to know which feeling was his, and which wasn’t. Shadow also often felt angry, and hungry and tired. He often wondered what Sweeney was sensing from him. More than once, he had to stop himself from asking him about it.

The road was thinning out before them in to one of those long, boring stretches where there seems to be nothing but fields and the occasional, lonely tree. Mountains somewhere in the distance loomed darkly from the horizon, and the dusky lights of the last town they’d past were disappearing in the rear view mirror. The radio was fading in and out, a soft weaving between static and the snatches of a song. For a moment, it seemed to Shadow as if the three of them were the only people in the world, suspended in this strange little twilight, going nowhere. Next to him, Wednesday looked like he was dozing; his hat covered his eyes, and his breathing rolled out deep and slow. Shadow had learnt not to assume anything though, and found his gaze flick from the old man to the road and back and again, trying to gage the situation better. If Wednesday was asleep, then Shadow’s plan was to pull over at the next available opportunity and find a proper bed for the night. He glanced over again, straining to hear a tell-tail snore or something else promising, and caught sight of Sweeney in the rear view mirror, watching. Shadow ignored him, as normal, and returned to the road. But when he looked up again, Sweeney was still there, still watching. Unnerved just a little, for a moment Shadow felt himself trying to reach out, probing in to the silence, searching for a sliver of whatever Sweeney was feeling.  He stopped as soon as he realised what he was doing.

There was shifting in the back seat, the old leather groaning, and a hard tug on his seat as Sweeney pulled himself forward. Shadow could feel him close to the back of his head, his face hovering just behind his right shoulder. He smelt of burnt tobacco and the warmth of alcohol. Shadow bristled as Sweeney began to talk in hushed tones, the heat of his breath rolling across the exposed skin of Shadow’s neck.

‘He’s definitely asleep. Plan?’

‘You haven’t read my mind?’ Shadow hissed sarcastically. Behind him, Sweeney gave a low snort.

‘Like I’ve been anywhere near your mind. I just need to know you’re going to be taking us off this godsforaken road sometime soon so I can get out of this fucking car.’

Shadow turned his head instinctively, catching a glimpse of Sweeney’s mouth at the corner of his eye.

‘Yeah, I am. Soon as I can ok, so calm the fuck down and don’t wake him.’

Sweeney didn’t sit back. Shadow could feel him getting angrier, although he wasn’t sure how he knew that anymore. Was he hearing a change in breathing, a subtle little grunt, or was it the bond that told him? Was that his anger or Sweeney’s? He felt his jaw clench.

‘Just keep your fucking eyes peeled’ Sweeney muttered. ‘I swear I can’t fucking stand being in here much longer.’

Sweeney’s presence at his shoulder was palpable, amplified by the force of the feelings that seemed to be rolling out of from him. They crashed over Shadow one after the other like waves; anger, frustration, lethargy, tension, excitement…. Shadow felt that one burst in the pit of his stomach like a fire cracker underneath all the rest, a sudden flush of heat. Sweeney was muttering something offensive under his breath, his hand still gripping Shadow’s seat, the weight of him making it feel unbalanced.

‘You wanna sit back down? I’m trying to drive.’

Sweeney paused, and then began to chuckle. Shadow felt the swell of tension rise across his chest, his hands gripping the wheel tighter, his neck and shoulders stiffened. Sweeney pulled himself a little closer, his mouth now just behind Shadow’s ear.

‘What’s this, now? Feeling uneasy?’ he said, drawing out the whisper slowly. ‘You think I’m after hurting you?’

Shadow’s instinct was to turn, to look him in the eye when he confronted him, but stopped himself just short. He drew his mouth in a hard, straight line and tried to roll his shoulders clear of the tension, willing it to melt away.

‘No. I just don’t like you being up in my space when I’m trying to drive.’

Sweeney continued to chuckle, low and soft, just out of reach.

‘Nah, that ain’t it. You’re forgetting, I can fucking smell it on you. One of the perks of this little situation in which we find ourselves.’

Shadow swallowed hard as Sweeney moved again, closer, feeling the heat of breath against his cheek, the smell of him now stronger. He could hear Sweeney lick his lips, felt the graze of his tongue almost touch his ear. The spark of heat in his belly bloomed suddenly, sending a shiver right up his body. His struggled to keep his hands steady. Sweeney was whispering again.

‘I know now when you’re lying. Remember that, you fucking arsehole. I know.’

Shadow tried to focus on the road, to take his mind somewhere other than the mess of feelings across his body. It was too much. What was his and what was Sweeney was too difficult to pull apart. He needed to find some stability. He needed him gone. And he needed his fucking mouth away from his ear. He took a breath, straightened himself, kept his head fixed forward.

‘Yeah, I know. It works both ways remember?’

Their eyes met in the rear view mirror. There was a moment of understanding. The Irishman seemed to soften, the thin smile fading. The heat in Shadow’s belly began to flicker and die. He still didn’t know whose it was. Sweeney narrowed his eyes and sat back silently, the leather giving way under him with a sigh. The atmosphere in the car seemed to pulse gently around them for a while, in time with Shadow’s breathing as it began to normalise. The darkness slipped in at the corners gently. In the distance, he became aware of a pool of light just off the road, and the welcoming glow of a gas station and a little motel just beyond. Wednesday had begun to snore as Shadow took the exit.


	6. Day 9

Day 9

Wednesday disappeared occasionally, without warning. Sometimes, he’d leave some details or instructions with Sweeney who would inevitably keep the vast majority of the details to himself and delight in the frustration he could cause in Shadow by giving him only the bones of the plan. Secretly, Sweeney was pleased that Shadow had not yet passed in to Wednesday’s confidence, although it annoyed him that it was clearly Wednesday’s intention at some point. He liked it better when he could pretend Shadow was just the driver, or the muscle, or the bag boy. It was simpler that way. Truthfully, Sweeney was not used to spending this much time in anyone’s company and navigating the dynamics of this strange little threesome was so fucking tiring. And this new development had been interesting but ultimately, was too much information. He didn’t want to know when Shadow felt lonely, or when he missed his wife. He didn’t want to feel the anger he had over her betrayal; it ached like a stab wound; Sweeney had been surprised that Shadow was so literal. He especially didn’t like the feeling of cold confusion that seemed to always be swimming around Shadows mind, although he would be lying if he didn’t enjoy that a little bit sometimes too, knowing how fucked up Shadow thought this all was. _He doesn’t know the half of it._

For the first time in a while they’d stopped in an actual city, with skyscrapers and department stores and places you get Chinese food, or sushi or pizza at any hour of your choosing. And people. So many people. They swarmed the streets with their vacant faces, ignorantly shuffling ever onward. Sweeney took the first opportunity he could to get out amongst them. He remembered what Wednesday had said about distance, but thought it couldn’t hurt to try. He left Shadow brooding over a whiskey in some hotel lobby bar, shrouded in something that felt like melancholy and went walking. It didn’t take long before the stain of Shadow’s feelings started to wash out from him. Sweeney did a careful mental check, just to be sure. He felt belligerent, and restless, and thirsty. Yes, those were all his own. They hung on his bones as comfortably at his own clothes, warm and reassuring. He smiled.

He walked on for about a block, with no particular purpose other than to try to relieve some of the agitation that had been building over the last few days. The people he passed paid him no attention whatsoever, and he returned the favour. They didn’t interest him. He focused instead on the way his body felt, the thud of the heart in his ears and the hum of his breath in his throat and chest, the stretch and pull of each leg as it hit the ground and the movement of his spine. For too long, he had been concerned with what was happening in his head, forgetting the simple pleasure of movement, listening to how the body sang. Hadn’t he used to walk for miles? He remembered a time when he would have walked for days over open fields, glens and valleys. He washed in streams. He slept in trees. He knew the coming of rain by the smell of the grass. Plucked food from open windows. Hid in moonlight.

He stopped then, feeling suddenly lost, and his immediate thought was anger at Shadow for interrupting him like this. But he felt the shape of this sadness and realised with a sigh that it was his, uniquely and quietly his. He balked at the idea of Shadow knowing it. God damn Grimnir! How much longer did this fucking curse last? He looked around at where he’d ended up. Trees all around him, and a thin concrete path leading off in to dappled sunlight. People in business suits eating their lunch. Some nonchalant dog walkers. A small, green parkland in the middle of all this human noise. Sweeney smiled again, and took a seat on an empty bench.

He had not been there more than half an hour before the intrusion came again. The feeling rose like ice along his back, until the hairs on his neck stood up, and he knew that he was being watched. A deep well of anger suddenly opened up in him, seemingly from nowhere, but he could feel how far it stretched. He saw flashes of faces, blurred and unrecognisable, and then panic. Fuck! He hadn’t moved and yet his heart was suddenly pounding in his chest, and he couldn’t breathe. Every time he tried, it was painful, like his lungs just couldn’t gulp in enough air. He knew, with absolute fucking clarity, that he had to run. Run now. Run fast. _Run run run run_. The urge throbbed through his mind over and over again.  _What the fuck was happening?_ Taking one deep, powerful breath, Sweeney filled his chest and tried to wrestle his mind clear of whatever was taking over, reminding himself that it wasn’t real, wasn’t his, didn’t matter. But the feeling of panic was thick and it was rising. And he knew that Shadow was not a man to panic. Something was really very wrong.

Sweeney was running before he had time to think. Later, he would tell himself that it was Shadow’s impulse that made him do it, but the truth was that by then, it was pretty hard to tell where Shadow’s panic and Sweeney’s fear met, and by the time he’d reached the hotel lobby, Sweeney’s chest was pounding all for itself. He glanced around wildly, but Shadow wasn’t there. Cursing, he ran back outside, with no other plan than to keep moving, until he heard the sounds of fighting. The thick crunch of bone in to meat, the sudden shout, the winded groan. Rounding the alley way, he saw Shadow on the ground, hands up by his face, blood over his fingers. Three men surrounded him, kicking in to his back, his ribs, his belly. Sweeney didn’t even notice that they were all dressed the same until he was on them. His confusion lasted only a second until his fist connected with the side of a face, and all his fear became rage.

Shadow didn’t know what was happening until he opened his eyes and saw a familiar pair of boots dancing around him, and realised that the rain of kicks and blows had all but stopped. He was pretty sure his nose was broken and there was blood all in his mouth but all that mattered now was the feeling of pure, unadulterated delight. It went through him like a jolt of sunlight, sharp and hot and full of such fucking energy. It was anger, but it was _goooood._ Stumbling to his feet, Shadow saw Sweeney swinging wildly in to the face of the man closest to him. Except, it wasn’t a face at all. Just a blank, featureless mess of meat on each head. They were all focused on Sweeney though, crowding round him as he swung and kicked and bit the air, shouting obscenities with each punch. Two against three now, a much more even fight, and Shadow forgot the panic that had overcome him moments ago, washed clean away in the bright, burning joyful indignation that was Sweeney. Shadow let himself fall right in to it, letting it renew his strength, feeling it build with each blow as he felt the men’s bodies break under his fists. It wasn’t long before it was clear they had won. Those things – whatever they really where – were running now. Sweeney had given chase, but just before they reached the mouth of the alley, there was a sound like static, a loud POP! and then all three just vanished. Sweeney muttered something in old Gaelic, his shoulders heaving up and down with each heavy breath. The space around them felt oddly silent, the noise of the street seeming far away, as if coming through an old radio. In the calm, the exuberance Shadow felt a moment ago begin to drift away, throwing the pain of his injuries to the forefront. He winced as he moved, feeling the bruising across his ribs and back, and black eye that was already beginning to swell. Sweeney was rubbing his jaw, his knuckles red and raw.

‘The fuck they want?’ he said grimly, not looking at Shadow. Shadow laughed bitterly.

‘They didn’t say’ he said sarcastically. It was the truth. The Technical Boy seemed to have given up trying to make small talk anymore. His attacks seemed to be opportunistic, whenever Shadow seemed alone. He took that as a good sign.

‘Good job I was nearby, else you’d be done for.’ Sweeney keep his eyes forward, stood just in shadow, watching the city pass by. ‘Some bodyguard you are. Can’t fight off a few goons.’

Shadow smiled wryly but didn’t raise to it. A part of him knew how true that statement was. He’d been scared, for a moment at least, and remembered that it was entirely possible that Sweeney knew that. Anyway, he felt too tired to argue.

‘Thanks. I owe you.’

Sweeney turned then, and Shadow was surprised by the expression he caught. It was only a flicker, gone almost as soon as appeared. He would have missed it entirely were it not for the feeling that he caught at the tail end of it. Sweeney was worried, and amongst the concern that sputtered only momentarily between them, Shadow felt a softness that he was entirely unprepared for. He opened his mouth to say something but could think of nothing that would make any sense. Sweeney eyed him suspiciously, the grit returning, the moment gone.

‘I need a drink’ he growled and lurched forward in to the light, limping in to the crowd. Shadow followed.


	7. Day 10

Day 10

Sweeney woke with a headache and knew immediately that it wasn’t his. It was annoying how easy it was becoming to tell the difference. It made him worry that this thing was getting stronger. He took a shower, delicately, careful of the cuts on his hands and face and the tender bruise under his eye. There was a left over burger in pieces on the bedside table and that became his breakfast. The hotel they were in was of the fancier sort, so he was able to make himself a decent coffee too, topping it up with the last of the whiskey from his flask. The headache remained. He watched some TV, had another coffee, and waited. Still, the headache did not fade. He took a little walk around the block, smoked some cigarettes, watched some more TV. The headache stayed. Wednesday was not yet up, and had made it clear he wasn’t to be disturbed until he was ready, so all Sweeney could do was linger. He thought about that little park from yesterday, but the thudding in his head was too keen to let him rest. It made him feel woozy. Annoyance rising with every passing minute, he decided to meet the issue at the source.

Shadows room was locked, but Sweeney had never let that stop him. Inside, he found it all unnervingly neat. The bed looked untouched, and clothes neatly folded on the dresser. Shadow was in the bathroom, his voice sounding tired.

‘Hello?’

Sweeney toyed with the idea of letting him worry a little, but the throb in his temples was still aching and he didn’t feel like adding to it. He walked towards the bathroom door.

‘It’s me’ he said tersely. There was a pause. He could hear water running.

‘What do you want?’

‘Come to scrub your back, what do you think? You got a fucking migraine or something, really fucking annoying me now.’

‘Oh I’m sorry. Must be really difficult for you.’ Shadow did not sound sincere. Sweeney lent against the wall and pressed his fingers in to his forehead.

‘Look, I just need it to stop ok?’ Another pause. ‘You need something? I dunno, like some Advil or something?’

Shadow didn’t respond at first, and Sweeney immediately felt his anger flare.

‘No, I’ve had some.’

More silence.

‘Thanks though.’

Sweeney closed his eyes and wondered, not for the first time, what the fuck he was doing. He could sense Shadow’s weariness, and knew that he hadn’t slept.

‘I’ve never felt anything physical before’ said Shadow. ‘Does this mean it’s changing?’

It was the first time either one of them had addressed their situation directly for a while. Sweeney felt his shoulders tighten, an urge to leave suddenly very palpable.

‘Sorry’ Shadow said, reflexively. ‘It’s just if you can feel this headache, then that’s new.’

Sweeney thought about the bruise under his eye.

‘You feel anything from me? Anything physical like that?’

Shadow seemed to consider the question before answering.

‘No. You’re really pissed though.’ He laughed, and it echoed, bouncing off the walls of the bathroom. Sweeney could see steam at the foot of the door.

‘No shit.’

He slid down the wall, so that he was sitting by the door. Legs crossed, head back. There was a sense of calm building somewhere, the headache starting at last to fade. The bath was clearly beginning to work.

‘You know what I can’t stand?’ Sweeney said, more to the empty room than anyone in particular. ‘How fucking much you miss your dead wife.’

The silence from the bathroom was heavy, but for once he hadn’t meant it to be insulting. He continued.

‘How do you stand that? Isn’t it just a fucking ball ache?’

There were sounds of water moving.

‘Yeah I suppose it’s a bit of an inconvenience.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that….’ Sweeney began, and then stopped, unsure of how to go on. He wanted to say that it was just too much, to feel that deeply about someone. He wanted to say, how could you stand it? How can you love something so much when you know one day you’ll lose it, or it’ll fuck you over, or leave you? Why do you put yourself through it?  

There was more silence. The pain continued to subside though, calmness beginning to drift gently in to all the places it had once been.

‘That’s just part of love’ said Shadow simply. ‘Sometimes it hurts.’

Sweeney closed his eyes and let his head fall forward, resting in his hands. A question that had been floating around his mind for a few days now found its way to the foreground.

‘What do we do if this thing doesn’t go away?’

He heard Shadow sigh. An image came to his mind of his muscular body stretched out in the bath, slick with sweat and water, the bruises as dark patches across the already dark skin, the dips and ridges of his stomach, the hard angle of his hips, the hollow that led downward…. He pressed his eyes shut even tighter, a knot forming in his belly, angry at himself.

‘Then I guess we’ll just understand each other a little better.’

Sweeney shuffled to his feet, eager to leave. His head felt clearer at least. Small mercies.

‘I’ll call you when he’s ready’ he said, but the sound of the bathroom door opening stopped him. Shadow walked delicately, clearly still in pain, one hand clutching the towel around his waist, haloed in steam. He didn’t seem to notice Sweeney’s blank stare.

‘Yeah ok, that’s cool.’

Shadow began gathering clothes up from the dresser, sitting on the edge of the bed furthest from Sweeney with his back to him. Sweeney noted that only one arm seemed to be working properly. The other stayed close to Shadow’s side. He watched him awkwardly try to hook a pair of underwear around his foot, while still trying to keep the towel around his waist. He hadn’t noticed that Shadow had turned to look at him.

‘You want to give me a moment here?’

Sweeney blinked and recoiled slightly, rocking back on his heels.

‘um, yeah, ok, whatever….’

He turned and made for the door again, this time with renewed purpose.

‘Hey, no, wait, I need you.’

Sweeney stopped dead, and cursed himself silently for the thoughts that suddenly raced through his mind, trying his hardest to think about anything else right now, to be feeling anything else. _Fuck if Shadow felt that I’ll have to kill him. Or me. Either way, someone has to die._

Sweeney looked over his shoulder hesitantly. Shadow was stood now, underwear successfully on, towel on the bed. Sweeney made a very pointed effort to look him directly in the face. Shadow was holding a t shirt up.

‘You mind? I can’t really lift this arm.’

‘You what?’

Shadow shook the t shirt again, a tired but resigned expression on his face.

‘It was hard enough getting it off.’

Sweeney finally comprehended what was being asked of him, but wasn’t any more pleased about it. He scoured Shadow’s face for signs of a joke, some hint of sarcasm. But Shadow just looked tired _. Ok maybe he doesn’t know_.

‘Think I’ve cracked some ribs’ Shadow continued, tossing the offending t shirt on the bed. Sweeney approached tentatively, picking it up as if the thing might explode, but Shadow remained unmoved. He held up his good arm, ready. Sweeney made sure he kept a healthy distance between them as he hooked the shirt over it, sliding it down to Shadow’s body.

‘You need a doctor?’ he found himself asking. Shadow looked down at his side, and Sweeney could see the bruises forming across him, the skin discoloured and angry. His face was looking a little better than yesterday though, with most of the swelling gone, a few nasty cuts and welts left. Sweeney lifted the collar of the shirt and helped ease it over Shadow’s head, careful not to touch any of the wounds.

‘No, nothing they can do. Just gotta let it heal. Suppose I’m a bit useless till then.’

Sweeney chuckled despite himself.

‘Nothing new there then.’

Now came the tricky part. Sweeney stood clumsily with the shirt still in his hand, the pair of them looking vacantly at Shadow’s bad arm.

‘Can you just…?’

‘No not really. What if I…?’

‘No not like that.’

‘Can we maybe, if I do….?’

‘Ow, fuck, no!’

Sweeney didn’t realise how close they had become. When he touched Shadow, it was almost absent-mindedly, his hand cradling Shadow’s elbow, gently easing it upwards. So intent on the task at hand, he didn’t notice how Shadow’s mouth was almost at his neck. He didn’t notice either how pliant Shadow was, how easily he let Sweeney hold and move him, guiding the shirt down over his hand and slipping it neatly over his arm. He also didn’t notice the way Shadow’s gaze had moved to his face and had stayed there, watching him. So it was a bit of a surprise to Sweeney when all these realisations happened exactly at the same time. What was even more surprising was the little hint of feeling he caught just at the centre of it all. Intense, but fleeting. A jolt right of curiosity down the middle of him. A sense of wanting. He let go of Shadow’s arm with a start.

_Oh._

_Oh now there’s something new....._

Tentatively, he took a step back, opening up the space between them again. But the echo of Shadow’s thoughts still buzzed in his ears. He flashed a smile. If Shadow realised what had happened, he didn’t seem to show it. Sweeney lingered for a moment, watching, trying to catch another little thread, the edge of something…

‘Right, well, I’ve got it from here so if you could just….’

Shadow made a dismissive gesture, and started to pick up his jeans, turning away from him again.  Sweeney sucked his lip and rocked back on his heels, considering.

‘Yeah, yeah, ok, sure, ok.’

He didn’t move. Shadow looked back at him over his shoulder.

‘I’ll meet you by the car.’

Sweeney smiled again, only this time it was the slow kind of grin that starts in the corner of the mouth and spreads upwards, deliberate and knowing, a hint of teeth.

‘Aye. You will. Hurry up sweetcheeks, we ain’t got all day.’


	8. Day 12

Day 12.

As bars went, it was one of the nicer ones he’d been dragged to so far. Not that big, but not that busy either. That low lighting that tries to give an ambience, but with those exposed bulbs because it didn’t want to try too hard. Music that sounded familiar enough to be comfortable but new enough to seem fresh. The tables looked clean, and when they brought you a drink, it came with a napkin. Shadow was glad he wasn’t buying, looking at the prices. But then again, he had the suspicion that none of them would be. They were three rounds deep, and Wednesday had managed to open a tab to which he kept on adding, working his way slowly down the cocktail menu. Shadow was currently sipping something dark and syrupy, whilst Wednesday had been delighted by the arrival of a bright pink something that might have been a daiquiri. Shadow thought Sweeney would have been reluctant to join in, but had soon discovered that to the Irishman, liquor was liquor even when it was put in a fancy glass and mixed with grenadine.

It was a time to pause and to celebrate, Wednesday had said. Things had been going so well, and they’d all deserved a little break; not least Shadow with his still-bruised ribs. A boys night out, he’d said with a smile, which had conjured in Shadow’s mind something very different and not wholly palatable. This, as it turned out, was fine even though he felt very out of place amongst the considerably better dressed, younger, and noticeably more affluent clientele around them. Still, Wednesday seemed relaxed, and so Shadow tried to relax too. He imagined Laura’s voice in his head. _Don’t worry puppy. They’re all assholes anyway._

Wednesday had been talking, or rather monologuing, about something for the past ten minutes. Shadow had lost the thrust of it early on, the old man’s meandering speech peppered with things that Shadow was sure had a double meaning. He seemed happy to continue uninterrupted though and so Shadow’s attention had turned to the drink in his hand, watching the way the light made patterns across the dark surface.

When he looked back up, he found Sweeney staring at him. His huge shoulders hunched over, leaning forward on the too-small table, he could have easily looked awkward but there was something calm about his expression. When he saw Shadow looking, he unfurled a smile but said nothing. Shadow looked away, but could still feel eyes on him. Between them, Wednesday’s speech continued, untroubled. Shadow felt an uncomfortable pulse move through him, a feeling he wasn’t all that familiar with, and for a moment at least, he wasn’t sure it wasn’t his. It wasn’t nervousness, it didn’t have the bite of that. It wasn’t fear either, with which he had more than a passing acquaintance. It wasn’t even just the unease of being looked at; a feeling Shadow was intimately familiar with, and which he had later learnt to use to his advantage. It was easier being a con artist if you knew when there were eyes on you. But it was most definitely _his_ feeling, he had to admit. And the telling glint in Sweeney’s told him he could feel it too.

‘…and that’s really what they’ll never understand’ finished Wednesday, chuckling. ‘Another?’ He was on his feet before either Shadow or Sweeney could respond, catching the eye of the prettiest barmaid, whispering so that she’d have to lean in. Shadow watched him silently, trying to ignore the way Sweeney was still eyeing him.

‘Powerful sense of unease you’ve got there sugartits. Want to talk about it?’

Shadow smiled tersely and took another drink. ‘I thought that was the exact opposite of what you wanted to do.’

‘Aye but then you made it interesting.’

Shadow looked to Wednesday, but he didn’t seem as if he was in a hurry to return. He downed the rest of his drink.

‘Let’s not.’

He tried to think about something else, but Sweeney had a way of taking up all the available space. Wherever he looked, he could still see him, smirking. It was clear he wasn’t willing to let it drop, and Shadow tried instead to shut the feeling off, to push whatever it was back down to wherever it had sprung from. Of course, that had the opposite effect.

He thought about Laura again, from his one attempt to take her on a date. They had come to place not that much dissimilar to this, a place he had naively thought she would like, a place to show her he had money and an inclination to spend it on her. She’d laughed at the pretentiousness of it, but agreed to stay for one drink. They’d sat in a dark corner and he’d watched her as she watched him, drinking her rum and coke through a straw. It was a strange period of their relationship, that weird awkwardness after you’d seen each other naked but before you knew what the other person really thought about you. When you were pretty sure that you wanted, but the thought of saying it out loud was still a bit too scary, even though you absolutely knew what her body looked like in all angles and she knew how to make you cum. He’d watched her with a hesitant curiosity, trying to read her thoughts by the way she held her drink, and realised he would have killed to have this gift back then. The way she looked at him, slightly knowing, slightly predatory, slightly mocking…. It had made him feel…..

A jolt brought him back in the room, and a splash of something cold hit him right in the face. A man was trying to right in himself, his drink going everywhere. He didn’t even realise what had happened. Shadow looked at him in disbelief, the beer dripping slowly down his chin. _Just turn and apologise, and I’ll let it drop. Just turn, right now, apologise, and I’ll let it go…._ It was like a mantra. _Have some fucking sense man, just say you’re sorry and I can let this be…._

But the man didn’t turn. He was walking away. Too drunk even to notice Shadow as he stood.

‘Hey, you wanna watch it?’

He said it politely as his anger would allow. The man turned slowly, the remainder of his drink falling to the floor in a gentle cascade. But it was clear from the smirk on his face that Shadow’s effort was wasted on him.

‘Why don’t you just fuck off you fucking…’

Shadow saw Sweeney’s fist fly past him in a blur, connecting with the man’s face in a brutal crunch. The whole bar seemed to pause as the man stumbled and then fell, the glass shattering as it slipped from his hand. Sweeney’s punch had knocked him unconscious. As he hit the floor with a thud, his friends started to edge forward. The bar was holding it’s breath. Sweeney grinned, and began to unbutton his jacket.

‘Alright lads, one at a time now, let’s get this done.’

Shadow didn’t really register what happened next, it was too fast. The men at the bar moved as one, rushing forward. He couldn’t see how many there were. Sweeney just put his head down and charged in to them, roaring. He was at least a foot taller than all of them. In the mess that followed, it quickly became clear that none of them had ever really been in a fight before. They fell away like wet rags, Sweeney ducking every swing and returning with his own hard upper cut. It was all over in a matter of seconds. Bloodied and cowed, they scrambled towards the door, leaving their unconscious friend still at Sweeney’s feet. In the silence, he remained still, watching them as they hurried away down the street. Shadow watched too, but his eyes were on Sweeney. He saw his bare arms flexing as he clenched and unclenched his fists, the red grin, the glint in his eye, and for a moment thought he might lunge again. His instinct was to reach out and touch him, to hold him back. And he did, almost. But Sweeney was turning to him, and he could see the expression on him changing, becoming looser as the violence ebbed away to leave just the grin and the glint. And Shadow was shocked, winded almost, by the feeling that hit as Sweeney strode towards him; the most intense feeling of possessiveness, the kind of utterly exuberant feeling of knowing you had protected something that was, undoubtable, yours. Rooted completely to the spot, he could only watch as Sweeney reached him, put his hand under his chin, tipped his head back.

‘Never say I don’t do anything for you babycakes’

The kiss was brief, and bloody, and coarse. Sweeney pressed his face in to Shadow’s while he gripped the base of Shadow’s jaw. As he pulled away, Shadow felt suddenly extremely open. Sweeney was strolling back to the table, picking up his jacket. Wednesday was watching them from the bar. When he caught Shadow’s eye, he raised his drink and winked.

‘I’ll be outside when you cunts are ready’ said Sweeney, lighting a cigarette as he stepped over the unconscious man still on the floor. As he passed Shadow, he grinned.

‘But take your time.’


	9. Day 14

Day 14

The name calling did not stop. Shadow was used to the normal range of things Sweeney would throw his way, but most of them were coarse and often in Gaelic. He was not used to being called ‘honey’ by a 6 foot something Irishman. Or ‘sweetie’, or ‘darling’ or, in one very weird moment, ‘flapjack’. That was bizarre even by Sweeney’s standards and Shadow suspected that he had momentarily lost focus and just said the first thing that came in to his head.

They did not talk about the bar. Shadow could feel the weight of it constantly, the tension in himself every time Sweeney so much as looked at him. It was beginning to fuck him off. It didn’t help that every time Sweeney’s mind popped in to his, all he got were snatches of laughter or the vision of the kiss replayed over but from Sweeney’s point of view. It was like he wouldn’t let Shadow forget. In the absence of any meaningful outlet, all Shadow could do was ruminate. In the quiet stretches of the journey, or just before sleep, he found himself wandering back to that swell of emotion that had flooded him just before it happened. On his first remembrance, Shadow had felt anger at the memory. The sensation of being ‘owned’ by someone, even just in their mind, had made him balk. The thought of Sweeney – of anyone – being so possessive flared something uncomfortable in him. He had never been on the receiving end of something so tangible and raw. Even Laura, who he was certain had loved him as much as she could love anything (at least once) had never made him feel that….that….. He struggled for a way to define it. But the more he thought about it (and he thought of very little else for the following day), the more noticed the subtle change in himself. Or rather, in a certain part of himself. A pleasurable little twitch. The beginnings of an urge.

He knew Sweeney could tell. He knew it in the way he held his gaze for too long, or the way he made sure to stand a little too close. The fucker was probably in his mind all the bloody time. The grin on his face was proof enough. It made Shadow feel dizzy from the effort of trying to control every impulse. All he wanted to do was be out of his sight but Wednesday was adamant that it was impossible. Once again, they had to press on. Once again, there was suddenly no time for rest. Shadow knew now for certain that the old man was doing this deliberately, and thought very seriously, at least once, that he should just pack up and go. But then he remembered that this thing would follow him, no matter how far he went. And besides, where would he go? _Stick it out_ he told himself that night. _Sweeney will get bored soon and this can all just be forgotten. Stick it out._  

They were in a minimart somewhere dusty when it happened. Shadow was stood looking at the cold drinks in the back, trying to decide which brightly coloured fruit flavour he wanted, when he felt Sweeney come stand behind him. As was normal now, not quite touching, but close enough for Shadow to feel the warmth of him at his back. He didn’t speak.

‘You mind?’ Shadow snapped. There was no response, but the presence behind him didn’t move. Shadow just knew he was smirking. Perhaps today he could try a different tact? Ignoring him hadn’t been working. He smiled at the idea of punching his problems away, always such a cathartic experience. But no. Not here. He’d clocked the shot gun behind the counter. _I’m not getting myself killed for this._

Sweeney began to snicker, and the hairs on the back of Shadow’s neck bristled.

‘Go for it big man. I’d love a little tussle.’

‘You need to walk away’ said Shadow evenly, without turning. ‘Now.’

He heard the sound of a tongue clicking, and Sweeney shifting. He imagined hands being pushed in to pockets, rolling on his heels, pulling himself up to his full height. That cocky way he held his head, slightly tilted back, lip curled. Something in him weakened. He was on it like a flash.

‘Come on baby, give in. I’ll go gentle.’

Shadow inhaled sharply. _Stick it out. Wear him down. It’s fine._ He picked the closest drink and stepped aside, heading for the counter. Sweeney followed.

‘I know I’m in your head’ he said quietly, leaning in as Shadow paid, still careful not to actually touch him. ‘Let’s just fuck and get it over with.’

The man at the counter raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he handed over the change. Shadow shot him a look that he hoped conveyed gratitude. _Don’t encourage him._ Not that it mattered one bit. Shadow could feel Sweeney’s uninhibited joy prickle across his skin like a splash of icy water, licking up his spine. His heartbeat quickened in response.

‘Good idea, let’s take this outside.’ Sweeney grinned as he followed Shadow to the parking lot. ‘I always enjoy a little alfresco.’ It was only now, leaning against the hood of car, that Shadow allowed himself to look him in the eye. He took a swig of whatever it was that’s he’d bought and narrowed his eyes.

‘I swear to god, I’m going to kill you.’

His tone was calm, despite the rising tension in his chest. Sweeney smirked again, all teeth. He stood square on to Shadow, his chest open and shoulders back.

‘Don’t be like that darling….’

He took a step forward. Shadow stiffened. Sweeney’s feeling were on him like an attack, wave after wave, washing over him. Not letting him take a moment.

_Just one moment, alone, to think. That’s all I want._

‘I’m serious. I can’t do this right now.’

He felt Sweeney’s pleasure flicker and flare.

_It’s what he wants; to make you uncomfortable. He’s loving this._

Shadow smiled thinly, a wry thought slinking it’s way in to his consciousness. He put the bottle down.

‘You know what? Fine. Ok. I get it. Let’s do this.’

Sweeney’s smile remained but Shadow felt the tremor of uncertainty underneath the chuckling.

‘Yeah? Great. Let’s go.’

He moved to the car, fishing the keys from his pocket, but Shadow moved too and blocked his path.

‘Where you going?’

Sweeney’s smile faltered a little now. He cocked his head quizzically.

‘Back to the motel….’

Shadow shook his head, and kept his gaze steady.

‘No. Here’s good enough. Right here.’

He took a step closer.

‘Right now.’

To keep Shadow’s eye, Sweeney was forced to look down. Shadow could read the confusion and pressed his advantage.

‘I mean it. You keep going on about it, let’s do it. Back of the fucking car. Now.’

Sweeney swallowed dryly, his gaze darting between Shadow’s eyes and mouth. The joy in him was slipping away. What was left?

‘Go on, read my mind. It’s all there. I’m not bluffing.’

He had no idea if Sweeney could. Did it matter? Sweeney’s breathing was faster. His mouth parted as if to speak but no words came. _Finally._ Shadow inched closer still, until his chest was pressed against Sweeney. He could feel the way his heart was hammering. Or was that his? He didn’t mean to whisper, but for some reason it was the only way it would come.

‘Go on, big man. Fuck me.’

He didn’t know who moved first, which little movement gave the game away, but he felt Sweeney’s tongue in mouth before he had time to think, his lips pressing urgently down on to his, his hands gripping his face. The force of it pushed him back against the car, Sweeney baring down on to him with all his weight. Only a second to steady himself and then he was kissing him back. It wasn’t like the bar. That had felt deliberately rough, as if to make it as uncomfortable as possible. This was rough because of need. Shadow found himself burying his fingers in to the fabric of Sweeney’s shirt, pulling him in deeper, every nerve ending aching. His hips pushed forward, his cock digging in to Sweeney’s thigh as it drove downward, spreading Shadow’s legs. And all this in matter of seconds. Just as suddenly as it started, it was over.

Sweeney was wiping was mouth, his breathing hard and ragged. Shadow, still leaning against the car, abruptly alone and acutely conscious of way his cock was still throbbing. Neither of them spoke for what felt like a very long time. In the silence, Shadow tried to make sense of what had happened by reaching out for Sweeney’s mind, but it seemed closed to him now, everything gone, his mouth and his pressure, and the feeling of being wanted…. Shadow blinked, hard, and stood himself upright again. The two men regarded one another.

‘I’ll drive.’

Sweeney spoke first, softly. The arrogance Shadow was waiting for did not materialise. No swagger. No look of triumph. As he approached the car, he moved like he was wounded. He took the long way round to the driver’s seat, his gaze fixed ahead, his hands tight on the wheel. In the absence of knowing what to do, Shadow followed, bringing the silence with him. He waited for Sweeney to turn on the engine but there was nothing. From the corner of his eye, Shadow could see his jaw grinding wordlessly, and he knew then, with annoying clarity, that he missed their connection. To know the colour of his mood, the drift of his thoughts. To know what to do next. These empty spaces where he had been alone had once been so precious to him, and now he could barely stand it. He reached out without really understanding what he was doing, a hand across Sweeney’s as it still gripped the wheel. Neither of them turned to look, but Sweeny did not move away. Shadow felt the knuckles under his palm begin to soften. There was an exhale. Shadow hadn’t realised Sweeney had been holding his breath.

‘Ok….  Ok….’

It was not said to Shadow. Sweeney seemed to be talking to himself. He breathed again, low and deep, and gently flexed the fingers that lay beneath Shadows. Too softly to be a push. Too delicate to be a rebuttal. And then he pulled away, turned on the ignition, and began to drive.

 


	10. Day 15

Day 15.

There was blood under his hands. It was too dark to see but he knew because of its slickness, the lack of friction as he grasped, desperately, desperately, and held on to nothing. The smell was rotten, like black earth and decaying fruit. Where was he going? Shadow didn’t know, but the thought of falling filled him like concrete.

_Get up, get out, move, move, dig._

He released suddenly that he was on his back, and the thick, acrid dirt was falling in his eyes and mouth. His hands clawed upwards, plunging in to the damp, crumbling darkness, trying to find the air that he knew was up there. He could barely breathe, with the blood and the earth and the pressure on his chest. He felt his fingers begin to break the surface, and the harsh light hit his eyes. He makes a fist and punched hard, again and again, in to the gaping hole opening up above him.

He didn’t remember how but now he was sitting up, above ground. He looked down at his hands and arms and they were completely clean – no trace of the dirt or blood from seconds ago. Was it seconds? He’d been here for days, hadn’t he?

‘Hey puppy.’

Laura was sitting on their bed. Shadow was on the floor. She was wearing the dress they buried her in, the one she got on sale when they took a trip out west once. She’d worn it once, and hated it. Shadow was pretty sure Audrey knew that when she chose it.

‘She was pretty mad’ said Laura, with an edge of sympathy. ‘I probably would have done the same.’

‘You can read my mind?’ Shadow said. Laura laughed, in that way she did where she didn’t actually sound happy.

‘Of course I can puppy. I always could.’

She was next to him now. Or rather, he was next to her, on the bed. Their bed. The bed she fucked _him_ in…. Shadow wanted to kiss her but she looked so cold, and faint, as if she was fading out of view. And the image of them together was burning on to the back of his skull.

‘Don’t be mad baby.’

Her voice was soft and cool, and her hand was on his cheek. It felt tender, in a way that she never was when she was alive. It was not his Laura. He looked up and he could see the bone white tree in the background, it’s bare branches twisting upwards in to the roof of their home, tearing it apart. Not-Laura still sat there, watching him. He wanted to grab her and run. The tree was growing.

‘We need to leave’ he said, but it was barely a whisper. Hs voice felt like nails in his throat. He tried again.

‘Laura! Come with me.’

Not-Laura looked back at him as she began to fade. There was blood at the corner of her mouth. Bruises were blooming on her throat and across her arms. The bone tree groaned as it expanded, it’s sharp edges reaching towards them, and Shadow saw in the distance the faint glow of fires. He knew what came next. It had come before.

‘Laura!’

There was no sound at all now. He knew what he was trying to say, but he couldn’t make her hear. Not-Laura wouldn’t move. She just sat on their bed while the tree engulfed the room, their bed. The bed. _Did she fuck him in other places too?_ Jesus Christ! Why was he thinking about this now? They needed to leave. The fires were glowing brighter. They needed to leave. He couldn’t leave her again. Why wouldn’t she move? Non-Laura was draining away, her skin almost translucent. She was smiling. Why would’t she move!? Shadow tried to stand, but his body wouldn’t respond. Any second now, and he would hear that voice again…. Any second now…. WHY WON’T SHE MOVE?!

‘SHADOW!’

It was dark, dark, dark. Where was Laura? Where’s the room? The tree? The fire? Why can’t he breathe? _Why the fuck can’t I breathe?!_

‘Shadow! Wake up!’

He flailed wildly in to the blackness, one punch after another. It was so hot. He couldn’t understand where he was, why there was nothing around him. His hands connected to air, again and again, except he still couldn’t seem to get any in to his lungs.

‘Christ, calm down, you fucking arsehole!’

Suddenly, THUD. His fist hit something tangible. He lashed out again, now that he knew where to aim. There was a wet sounding crunch and a voice yelling.

‘FUCK!’

In the darkness, Shadow felt the blow to his chest like a hammer, knocking him back. He crashed back in to the pillow and remembered that he was on a bed, but not the one in his dream….. His dream? Laura? The tree? The blood? A dream…. A fucking dream….

There was pressure on his sides, his arms suddenly pinned. In the quickening realisation of his mind, he could feel fingers gripping his skin and something more, something else. The weight of someone straddling him, a leg on either side of his hips. The sensation was no longer frightening. Out of the confusion and darkness and fear and empty air he finally had something warm and palpable, something to ground him back in this place. It flooded back to him in a rush. The motel room, the road and Wednesday. The bar and the fight. Sweeney. The kiss…   He felt almost….safe….

‘Wake up, you absolute gimp.’

In his quickly adjusting gaze, Shadow could just make out Sweeney’s face looming above him. The hollow of his eye, his broken nose, his open mouth, all highlighted red by the glow of the digital clock blinking steadily beside them. It was 11.56pm.

‘I’m awake’ he said hoarsely, still half expecting his voice to be gone. Sweeney didn’t release his grip.

‘You were having a nightmare. Woke me up. That’s some freaky shit you got going on up there.’

Shadow looked up to the dark hollow where he assumed Sweeney’s eyes would be.

‘Yeah. It happens.’

‘Caught me in the fucking jaw though’ Sweeney grumbled. Shadow could see him run his tongue along the corner of his mouth, and the dark glint of something wet.

‘Good job I’m in a charitable mood, or I might have clocked you back.’

Shadow considered the situation quietly for a moment.

‘This was you being charitable? Breaking in my room, pinning me to the bed?’

Sweeney chuckled.

‘Yeah, well. You weren’t in your right state. It was for your own protection.’

He felt the fingers at his arms begin to relax. It was then that he realised how hot he was, how wet his skin felt as Sweeney withdrew. He could still taste the adrenaline in the mouth, and the tension was only just now fading away from his neck and shoulders. His heart was beating against his ribs. Sweeney must have felt it all. Maybe could feel it still.

‘Sorry man….’ Shadow offered. ‘About your face….’

Sweeney rolled back on his heels, still straddling him.

‘It’s ok, didn’t hurt too much. Like I said, you’re lucky.’

Shadow smiled thinly. Able to move his arms again, he clenched and unclenched his fists, stretching out. As he did, he brushed against Sweeney’s knee. He wasn’t sure how long it took for him to move away, but he knew it wasn’t instant. Above him, he felt Sweeney shift slightly.

‘You alright now?’

Sweeney’s voice was low. Shadow nodded, then realised it was still dark.

‘Yeah…. Yeah I think so.’

His own voice felt faded, the words not entirely convincing. It didn’t feel strange to be like this, under him. It didn’t feel normal either. He knew that soon, the haziness of sleep would fully wear off and he’d be forced to decide which one it was. Already he was conscious of his mind slowly coming to, a thread of little thoughts beginning to dance somewhere behind his eyes. And with it, the knowledge of something else that was not his. He knew Sweeney’s mind almost instantly, the moment it crept in to his. Except this time, he didn’t need it. There was nothing in those thoughts that he couldn’t already read clearly in Sweeney’s expression. The way he seemed to press down on to Shadow’s lap a little firmer than he needed. The way his hand reached out towards Shadows as it pulled away from his knee, but stopped just short of touching him, hanging briefly in the dark, unsure.

‘I’m sorry for waking you’ Shadow offered. It didn’t seem the right thing to say but Sweeney’s inelegance, his feeling of unease, demanded something from him. It was a strange emotion on Sweeney. Shadow could feel how much he was fighting it. Sweeney jumped on the life line with both hands.

‘Ah it’s ok. I wasn’t asleep.’

Sweeney seemed to relax, and the feeling was gone. Untangling himself from his position, he came to sit at the end of the bed. Shadow sat up too, although he wasn’t sure why. Something about that missing pressure across his body suddenly made him feel exposed. The two of them sat for a moment, silently.

 ‘No?’

‘Nah. Don’t sleep a lot anyway.’

‘Oh, good. I guess.’

‘Yeah… So I should, you know… if you’re all good now?’

‘Oh yeah, definitely, yeah. I’m good, it’s good.’

‘Ok.’

‘Ok…’

‘See you in a couple of hours then.’

‘Yeah.’

‘G’night.’

‘Night.’


	11. Day 16

Day 16.

The corridor outside Shadow’s room was dark and still. Sweeney closed the door behind him gently, although did not leave right away. Instead, he found himself looking down at the handle and his own hand still wrapped around it. There was a low hum somewhere to his right; an air conditioning unit maybe, or an ice machine. Someone a few doors down had the TV on and he could hear the faint muffled sounds of a theme tune, distorted by the time and place. It almost felt otherworldly. Sweeney was still surprised when that happened, when the mundane slipped everso slightly in to ethereal, and he remembered once again what he truly was. These liminal spaces, these hours when the world began to feel thin and fragile, were rare to him now. He was so used to being without it that it felt almost wrong in way, and that made him feel guilty. He had lived too long in this time. He was forgetting what it meant. He let his hand fall away from the door handle, but still could not yet bring himself to move. The hum continued. The TV sounds flickered. The dull hallway light seemed to flare and then fade.

He licked the corner of his mouth and tasted the salt and iron of his blood, quickly drying against his lip. It had not been a full hit, catching him only slightly. He had been lucky. Shadow had been aiming to hurt, and he would have possibly lost a tooth had he not been so quick and Shadow more awake. He reflected on that for a moment, wondering what he would have done in that instance, knowing that his impulse was always to hit back harder. The conclusion he came to made him uneasy. The bar fight had been thoughtless and stupid. The kiss, both times, had been more stupid still. Of course, like all stupid things, they had not seemed so at the time. But now, standing in this empty corridor at gone midnight, looking blankly at a room he should not have entered and equally should never have left, all of Sweeney’s choices now seemed stupid. It was not fun anymore. Feeling Shadow’s fear and panic come crashing in to his mind from nowhere had not been fun. The worry he had felt for him had not been fun.

_Shit._

He rolled his shoulders, pulled himself upright and with a determined stride, turned away. There was whiskey in his room, and he could still drink himself in to oblivion with more than enough time to sober up before the morning, easy. That thought alone was enough to raise his mood a good few inches and he found himself walking quickly back up the stairs to the second floor. So focused on the task at hand, he didn’t even bother to switch the lights on as he got to the room, just headed straight for the bottle on the nightstand, glowing red in the light of the clock.

Wednesday was sitting in the dark on the end of the bed, like the dramatic arse he had always been.

‘Jesus fucking shite, I could have had your fucking head off, you fucking idiot!’

Sweeney reached for the light to find Wednesday chuckling silently. The old man grinned and held out two glasses. Sweeney didn’t know where he’d pilfered them from. The room only had those plastic cups.

‘I’m in no mood for a late night gossip’ Sweeney warned darkly, although his eyes darted longingly to the drink and the promise of unconsciousness. ‘You want company, there’s plenty women down the highway willing to sell it you. Sure you clocked them when we were driving in.’

Wednesday clicked his tongue in mild annoyance.

‘Sit, have a drink. I know you could use it.’

Sweeney took a glass hesitantly, poured himself a large measure and then handled the bottle to Wednesday. He took a seat on the battered chair in the corner of the room and drank the whole thing down in one, his eyes never leaving the old man.

‘There. I’ve had a drink.’

Wednesday watched him carefully, a gentle sort of amusement on his face. The type of expression Sweeney had grown to hate.

‘You seem tense’ he said gently, and handed the bottle back to Sweeney, who poured himself another large shot and knocked it back with a grimace.

‘Just a scratch, yeah. I wonder the fuck why.’

Wednesday swirled his glass around slowly, letting the spirit coat the inside before taking a measured sip.

‘You took an interesting turn in the bar. I wasn’t expecting it. You surprised me.’

He did not look surprised. Sweeney felt his cheeks flush and his teeth grind. He wanted to punch the sanctimonious expression clean off his face.

‘Don’t.’

He had meant it to be a warning, but it sounded like a plea.

‘You’re making things needlessly complicated’ Wednesday went on. ‘It’s not going to end well.’

‘Then get him the fuck out of my fucking head!’ Sweeney stood, the glass in his hand shaking with the force it took to hold himself back. ‘I know you can, you fucker. I know you can. I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve had your fun!’  He felt his eyes begin to burn and sting. The image of Shadow’s closed door rattled around his head. ‘You’re a damned piece of shit Grimnir, a fucking…..fucking…..’ He had never wanted to cause damage as much as he wanted to then. Every single insult he could think of was not enough for the anger he suddenly felt swelling in belly. The only thing that would meet it was violence, and it was the one thing he could not do.

Wednesday stood slowly. For a heartbeat, Sweeney thought he saw something beneath the old man’s eyes. Something ancient. Something not meant to be seen. He felt the floor fall out from under him.

‘I’m sorry. I….just…I….’ He felt sick at the thought of what he had almost done. His tongue was thick in his mouth, his eyesight blurred, a horrible cold knot forming in him where the anger had been. The glass fell from his hand with a heavy thud.

_Fuck what do I do?_

Wednesday stayed motionless, staring at Sweeney for far longer than was comfortable as time seemed to stretch out between them. He rolled his lips together and blinked slowly, as if adjusting to some new reality. When he spoke, it was still his voice but there was a vibration to it that left an echo in Sweeney’s head.

‘Do you remember where I found you?’

Sweeney squeezed his eyes shut. Cold. The bitter taste of vomit. Too many early mornings in wet clothes. Dirt. Nameless people. Nameless places.

‘Not exactly the life of a king’ Wednesday continued, his gaze falling back down to his drink. ‘Not much of a life at all, in fact. I found a coward in that bar room.’

The word cut Sweeney from sternum to groin. He opened his eyes again, expecting to see anger on Wednesday’s face, ready to have his heart pulled out from his ribs. But, of course, there was nothing. Nothing but the face of a benign old man, having a drink. He grinned, and it was like the room exhaled.

‘So! Tomorrow, I’m going to need to start early so we’ll need to get…..’

Sweeney wasn’t listening. Wednesday was back on the bed, gesturing with his drink, going off on a tangent. He sat back down, arms resting on his thighs, and tried instead to find something to stabilise his thoughts. It wasn’t easy. Before he knew what was happening, he was searching for Shadow, for any trace of him in his mind, any thought, any feeling that might be his. Just for a moment. Just to have something to focus on that wasn’t _here._ But however this fucking thing worked, it didn’t seem to be opening up for him right now. He sighed, and sat back up. Wednesday was still talking. He tried to listen.

And in his room, down stairs in the dark, just about ready to fall back asleep, Shadow felt Sweeney’s loneliness.


	12. Day 17

Day 17

Evening was coming on, difficult and cold. Something northerly had come in with the moon, pulling with it the kind of chill normally only felt higher up the mountains. Shadow woke from something, but it wasn’t sleep. The cold was seeping in to his feet from underneath the blanket, and as he looked towards the window where the slate coloured sky was just about peeking through, he wondered how long he had been there. It felt early still. The clock said nearly 6pm but the light suggested it was later. It was just another in a series of confusing sensations he seemed to have woken to. He had only wanted to nap. The memory of his dream last night floated somewhere behind his eyes, and a lingering sense of unease settled on his chest. He stretched, felt the soreness in his knuckle, and another memory flickered back to him. Something warm and comforting replaced the chill.

A night off, Wednesday has said. No need for any more travel tonight. If he were being honest, Shadow had no real desire to leave the room tonight, or tomorrow. Another pointless day driving in to nothing, no clue, no purpose. Another mysterious meeting with someone who spoke in riddles, and who did fucked up things with the laws of physics. It had been a good distraction previously. Now, he didn’t really feel that need anymore.

He ran the shower, sitting on the edge of the tub while the water ran. He kept the bathroom door opened, letting the steam float out in to the bedroom in an attempt to warm the place up a little. When he stepped in, the water was almost scalding. He gritted his teeth but didn’t flinch away, feeling the heat flush and tingle across his skin. It was soothing in its discomfort. Stepping out in to the now humid room, he could feel his heart beat thundering in his ears while his head began to swim a little. He lent in to it, allowing the sensation to wash over him. Peaceful, suspended in the enveloping heat and the damp, the comforting thud thud thud of his heart beat. He lay back on the bed, eyes closed.

He wasn’t sure which came first. Was he thinking about Sweeney, and the bond bridged the gap? Or was it the bond flickering up that made him think of Sweeney? Either way, in to the warm, pleasant darkness of Shadow’s mind came the feeling. It was almost mundane now in it’s familiarity. Shadow felt his own psyche shift gently to one side, allowing the other man’s thoughts room to stretch. Sweeney was hungry and frustrated, a feeling that settled somewhere in Shadow’s stomach and bloomed out across his lower back. It made Shadow feel his own empty belly begin to rumble, and he tried to remember what kind of food he’d seen in the vending machine down the hall. Images began to slowly pulse and fade across the back of his eyes, the ghost of sensations belonging elsewhere; the view from another motel room, the taste of whiskey and toothpaste, a headache building from the root of his skull. Sweeney’s sadness was strung across it all. Shadow sat with it a while longer, not trying to fight it. The rumble in his stomach grew louder.

_There’s fuck all in the machine, unless you like mints._

The shift in Shadow’s mind came gently but with a shiver, the consciousness inside his own turning its attention to him. Sweeney’s voice was clear amid his own thoughts, as if he were in the room. Shadow opened his eyes cautiously, fully expecting to see him standing there. He sat up. He considered his options.

‘How are you doing this?’

 _Fucked if I know. I haven’t known how any of this works_.

‘Are you talking out loud?’

A snicker.

_No. Are you?_

More laughter.

Shadow frowned, and tried instead to just think the words.

‘Ok so you can you hear me now?’

_Yeah. Clear as a bell._

‘Well this is new.’

_Oh yeah. A real fucking delight._

‘Could be useful’

_In what universe is this useful?_

‘Saves on cell phone service.’

He heard Sweeney chuckle but it seemed to fade, the edge of it trailing off in to a whisper. Shadow thought perhaps the moment had passed, but then the other man’s voice came back again clear as ever.

_I need a fucking shower._

‘Have one then.’

_What?_

 ‘A shower. Have one.’

_Literally what the fuck are you talking about?_

‘A fucking shower!’

Shadow shouted in to the empty room, the novelty fading rapidly. There was a pause. He could feel Sweeney’s confusion as it swelled and then crashed.

_Oh I see…. Ok, ok…. I get it….._

‘You didn’t think about needing a shower?’

_Not consciously._

‘So I can hear _all_ your thoughts?’

_Looks like it. Fuck, don’t go digging around in here too long, ok? There’s some fucked up stuff._

‘No doubt.’

_I can’t control it, ok? Mind’s just do what they want, you know?._

‘If I could stop this, I would. Just think pure thoughts.’

_Oh like it’s that easy!_

Shadow laughed now, as the sense of Sweeney’s disquiet began to grow, but it wasn’t born of unkindness. He stood, and began to dry himself. The air in the room had grown cold again but the dampness remained.

‘Shall we just agree to keep quiet until this goes away?’

It was odd to hear just the words Sweeney thought, devoid of all the other normal ways in which someone might read meaning. No flick of the eyes, no little twitch in the corner of a mouth, no hand gesture, no swagger. Just the raw thoughts, stripped down. Shadow was surprised how uneasy it felt. He had thought perhaps that he didn’t need that anymore; that when you could just look at a person and feel, in a very physical sense, what they were feeling, that the need to read a facial expression wasn’t that important any more. Evidently, it was.

_Yeah maybe. I dunno. Wouldn’t that be worse?_

‘How’d you mean?’

_What if something…..strange just pops in to my head and it’s there, in the silence. Can’t we just sing or something?_

‘Sing?’

_I don’t fucking know! Just hum some shit or something._

The pause hung there, pointedly.

_Just something, ok? It’s just too weird otherwise._

‘Too weird? Good to know where your line is. I was beginning to wonder.’

As Shadow began to dress, he felt something new pulling its way in to view. It was like a hangover, the kind he used to get as a teenager when drinking was new. Thickness in the back of his throat and behind the eyes, and a cloudiness in his skull. Even down to the sick feeling in his stomach, but without the pleasure of at least coming to it slowly as he woke. He steadied himself against the dizziness that suddenly threatened to kick his legs out from under him. Yet, despite all evidence to the contrary, he knew this was not drunkenness and he knew that Sweeney felt it too.

‘Fuck, will you stop!’

_I’m not…._

Sweeney’s lie died as soon as it began. The sick feeling washed away as suddenly as it had begun.

‘You can’t block this. We’ve tried. Just leave it.’

He felt the shift as Sweeney begrudgingly agreed, the last of the weird hangover trickling away back in to nothing.

‘I’m really not going to sing though.’

_Not even a little bit?_

‘Not even a little bit.’

_….You dressed now?_

‘Yeah’

_Can I come over then?_

 ‘Yeah ok’.

_I just think it’ll be a bit easier if I can see you, ya know?_

‘Yeah it’s fine.’

_It’s too weird just having your voice in my head_

‘It’s really ok.’

_I’ll just sit in the corner_

‘Sweeney!’

_Ok I’m coming._

 

Sweeney didn’t sit in the corner. Instead, he perched on the edge of the bed in a manner which put Shadow in mind of an overgrown bird, looking at the blank wall, drumming his fingers against his thigh. Shadow had felt the need to offer him a drink, but the only think to hand was cheap coffee or tap water. But Sweeney, of course, had bought his own and was taking periodic swigs from the flask in his shirt pocket.

Having him in the room was indeed a little easier. The disembodied voice in his head seemed a little less disturbing now Shadow could look across and see the man it belonged to. For his part, Sweeney’s thoughts seemed a little less frantic and strained as they ran through Shadow’s mind, although it was clear that he was still trying far too hard to control them. Shadow tried to talk to him at first, but the effort of making conversation and wrangle his emotions just seemed to stress Sweeney out even more. It was only just gone 7. Shadow had no idea how long they would have to endure this yet, and so he decided the best way to deal was to turn the TV on and join Sweeney in his silence. The sound of the evening news filled the empty space around them, comforting in it’s banality. Shadow took a seat on the other side of the bed, propped up against the head board and with his legs stretched out, and tried to focus on the noise of the newscaster’s pleasant Midwestern accent and the diamond pattern on her sweater.

Slowly, slowly, the thought made itself known. So soft in it’s coming that Shadow wasn’t sure if it was his or Sweeney’s. A flicker of want, just crackling gently under the surface. They both came to notice it at the same time. Ahead, Sweeney’s huge form moved just a fraction, his head turning slightly as if to glance behind him. A sense of recognition passed between them, two minds acknowledging what was there and quietly agreeing not to mention it. Except it wouldn’t leave. Shadow watched from the corner of his eye as Sweeney turned back to the TV, his attention turning away also. But the feeling, that soft, insistent feeling, remained pressed across Shadow’s chest. He thought then of Sweeney’s mouth. He thought of the taste of it against his tongue. He thought of the roughness of his beard against his lip. The tightness across his chest pulsed. It was only a second, but it was enough. When he looked up, Sweeney was looking back at him, silently.

_Come here._

Shadow heard the voice but it wasn’t Sweeney’s. For a moment he was confused, so used to hearing another person’s thoughts that he completely misunderstood his own. When Sweeney didn’t move, he felt immediately foolish. _What a fucking thing to do._ _What the fuck am I doing? I need to leave._ He moved to swing his legs off the bed, with no plan in his mind other than to be away from this room, but a feeling of sudden warmth stopped him. Sweeney’s hand was wrapped around his bare ankle, his fingers spread across the skin with a gentle but insistent pressure.

‘Don’t’.

It was the first word either of them had said out loud for some time. It seemed to echo strangely around them. It came again, quieter but more adamant.

‘Don’t.’ _I can’t be alone any more._

Neither of them moved. In the grim evening light, and haloed by the brightness of the TV,  Sweeney loomed dark and solid at the end of the bed. His shoulders moved slowly up and down in time with deep, slow breaths, barely audible over the sound of the news. Shadow felt the urge to run slide away with no resistance, knowing it was never what he actually wanted. Knowing that however far he ran, he couldn’t get out of his own head. At his ankle, he felt Sweeney’s fingers tighten and slip further under the leg of his jeans, towards his calf. In response, the crackling across his chest became a tremor, became a thud, became a hammer. He could only lick his lips dryly. His mind, for once, was empty and clear. Or maybe he just wasn’t paying attention to it anymore. The feeling in his body was enough. The hand, the look, the way Sweeney was breathing, it was all enough. Except not nearly enough at all.

‘Come here.’

The bed creaked low as the bodies on it shifted. Sweeney at first, slowly moving up the bed and then Shadow as he inched forward. They came together in the centre of the mattress, Sweeney sitting hunched over in between Shadow’s splayed legs, their faces close. The change in Sweeney’s breathing, now shallow, now ragged, flushed warm across Shadow’s skin. He used his arms to push himself a little further in to it, a little closer in to Sweeney’s face. His eyes were down cast, looking anywhere else but Shadow, but his hand had stayed on his leg. It rested on his thigh now, but only just. Shadow could feel the slight shake of his fingers. In the darkness created by their closeness, he found Sweeney’s mouth with his own, resting his face just against the other, just touching, his lips against the side of Sweeney’s. And he waited.

It was not like the other times. The lack of violence, obviously. And the absence of any rush. But there was something more fundamentally different here, and Shadow could feel it in Sweeney as much as he knew Sweeney could feel it in him. It felt like an eternity just waiting, but he didn’t care. Just to have him pressed there, against his face, felt right. The smell of him was warm and green, like a place he hadn’t been but could picture almost perfectly. He knew he should move, but the risk remained that he would ruin it. Sweeney’s mind was racing, too fast for him to follow, but it was all soaked with fear and uncertainty, threatening to pull him away at any moment. Shadow tried, gently, to make his own thoughts slow. _Listen to me_ he said to them both. _Listen to me. Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go._

Sweeney moved first, although there was hardly far to go. Just a little slip, and his mouth was on Shadow’s. Tender but persistent, exploring with his tongue, slowly letting Shadow open up to him. Tasting him. It felt as if this were their first time. Shadow responded in kind, kissing him slowly, feeling the growing confidence in Sweeney. The hand on his thigh became surer, the grip a little tighter. The urge to be rough was still there, like a heat in his jaw, and he could feel the need for it growing every time Sweeney’s teeth grazed his lip. But he held back. Feeling the urgency build in Sweeney was too perfect to rush through, and hearing every little breathless moan that caught in his throat was the reward for his patience. Sweeney’s thoughts were becoming sharper as his attention began to circle Shadow, and with it, less and less hesitation.  An image flashed through his mind, so explicit and so clearly not his own that he pulled away. In the space between them, Sweeney gave a low chuckle.

‘Yeah, I know. I’ll get to that…’

He reached forward, taking Shadow by the back of the neck and pulling him in. When they kissed again, there was no trace of his earlier nervousness. Now, it was like the other times. Now was the violence. Sweeney’s nails dug in to skin, his teeth grazed flesh. His other hand came up to hold Shadow’s face, his fingers under the jaw to hold him in place. It only took Shadow a moment to readjust. He met Sweeney like for like, hands searching for contact, reaching under, ripping at fabric. _Too many clothes_. They both pulled away to strip, Sweeney’s eyes never once leaving Shadow’s as he pulled his shirt off, then the vest. He pushed forward and Shadow allowed himself to be overpowered, flat on his back with Sweeney pressing down on top of him, finally skin to skin. Sweeney was at his neck now, kissing at the place where the jaw met the throat, his hands cupping Shadow’s face. It would have been tender where it not for the way he bit, or the way his hips ground in to him. But it wasn’t completely without softness either. Even as he bucked and pushed under Sweeney’s touch, Shadow could feel his thumb run gently across his lip.

Shadow’s hands were warm on Sweeney’s bare skin, fingers pressed hard across his ribs. He loved the way he flinched with every bite, the way he moaned with every lick. The way he moved underneath him, one moment deliberate and purposeful, the next a sudden shiver. It carried a thrill through the heart of him. Shadow was a living, breathing, fucking _powerful_ thing and he was under his control, twitching under his touch. He pressed down harder, snaking his hand around Shadow’s wrist and squeezing, feeling the pulse ripple and thud under his fingers, letting go a little, squeezing again. A slice of fear cut across Shadow’s thoughts, and in it’s wake, a deeper, darker sense of want. Sweeney grinned silently and moved his hand to Shadow’s throat, squeezing gently again. As Shadow’s breath became sharp and jagged, Sweeney felt that same rise and fall – fear and need. He squeezed again, harder, looking now in Shadow’s eyes as he did. This time, no fear. Just the want. Sweeney couldn’t remember the last time he had felt wanted. It was only a brief thought, but he knew Shadow had seen it. Had this been any other day, in any other place, he would have scratched his own eyes out rather than share it. Not here. Shadow’s own thoughts seemed to come back to him tenfold, filling his head, softly, softly. _Don’t stop. Don’t go. Stay. Stay..._

Shadow’s hands were at his waist, pulling at the belt buckle and then fumbling with his own. Sweeney watched him work, for a moment at least happy to be led. He watched as Shadow’s hand slid down his belly and under the waistband of his jeans, staying still as hot fingers slipped lightly around his cock, then unable to respond at all as Shadow’s grip tightened. His breath caught in his throat as Shadow began to move, only just, back and forth along the length of him. How could something feel too much and yet almost painfully not enough? He licked his teeth, and wondered whether Shadow had done this before. Beneath him, Shadow chuckled.

‘No, actually, I haven’t.’

The slow movement continued, back and forth, up and down. He felt Shadows thumb graze the tip and with it, his stomach lurched.

‘But I think I’m pretty good at it.’

Sweeney let him continue for as long as he could stand, eyes closed, trying to breathe. Shadow’s touch was frustratingly light, rough fingertips only doing the bare minimum, enough to keep him on a razors edge. His cock began to ache.

_Long enough._

He pulled away, but only for a moment. In the next, he was at Shadow’s jeans, and then they were off. Shadow caught a glimpse of something feral on Sweeney’s face just as he dipped down out of eye sight. His next thought was lost completely as he felt the hot, wet mouth swallow his cock. Sweeney was not subtle. There was no teasing now, just the sudden intensity of Sweeney’s throat as he slipped all the way down, and Shadow’s sharp gasp. Barely time to readjust before it happened again, and again. Sweeney was relentless, his tongue pressed firmly on the underside of Shadow’s cock on every up stroke, taking every inch of it on the way back down. Shadow’s body convulsed in response, utterly unable to do much else. He felt it move in ways he was not in control of, his hips pushing up to meet Sweeney’s mouth, wanting more. Sweeney’s pace grew faster, the wet motion of licking and sucking beginning to build, harder, deeper. Shadow’s eyes began to roll back in to his head as the sensation grew, starting in his thighs and his belly and becoming shaper, thicker, more insistent. Just a few more strokes and he would be there. Just a few seconds. He wanted to look up and see Sweeney’s face but his neck felt locked in position, thrown back on the bed. _don’t stop don’t’ stop don’t stop don’t stop please don’t stop please…_

And then.

Sweeney pulled away just at the last possible second. The throb in Shadow’s cock continued to pulse on for a few beats more, but without the friction, there was nothing else it could do. He roared his frustration in to the room, just hanging on the edge of something amazing.

‘You fu…’

His protest was lost as Sweeney kissed him again, the full weight of him across his chest, holding his face between his hands. Hungry, eager, softly devouring, feeling dangerously like an apology. And if it was, then Shadow accepted, happy to be consumed. He dragged Sweeney down closer with one hand, the other slipping down to where his jeans were already loose, trying to free himself of them entirely. Sweeney, realising what he was doing, rolled away to the side to do the same. Laying next to one another, each frantically trying to get rid of the last pieces of clothing, their eyes remained on one another. Raw thoughts flared and flashed around the room, bouncing from one to the other as if they were actual sparks. They came back together in the centre of the bed, clamouring to rid themselves of the unbearable space as quickly as they could. Shadow again found himself under Sweeney, burying his face in to his neck while Sweeney’s hand slipped down to his cock again, bucking against him, pushing further in to Sweeney’s palm.

_Don’t you fucking dare, don’t you even try…._

Sweeney laughed softly above him.

_Not this time. I want it. I want it I want it I want it I want it_

Shadow felt thick fingers trial downward, pressed softly against his ass. He gasped.

‘You’ll fucking have it’

Sweeney growled the words in to Shadow’s ear, his beard scratching the side of his face. He closed his eyes as the tip of Sweeney’s finger pressed against him a little harder, slowly opening him up. It never became too much. The moment it threatened to, Sweeney knew. Soft then hard, gentle then rough, just playing with him. Shadow moaned as Sweeney shifted positions, the rough beard scratching the whole way down his body, coming to rest between his legs. He felt hot breath first, heavy and wet, then tongue. Slowly, carefully, in all the places his fingers had just been. Shadow covered his face with his hands and moaned long and low in to the darkness. He didn’t know if it was instinct now or the bond that moved Sweeney in response, the two were becoming blurred. He felt himself slick and wet, fingers joining tongue, probing deeper, spreading. He knew what he wanted but didn’t know how to ask for it. Luckily, he didn’t have to. It only took for the thought to pass through his mind for Sweeney to know.

‘Wait.’

Sweeney, sat upright in-between Shadow’s legs, looked down at him. In the increasing moonlight, half of him was illuminated. The sheer size of him shouldn’t have been surprising by now, and yet it was all Shadow could think about. He just wanted to moment to catch his breath, and to look. He felt like he never just got to do that. He caught the expression on Sweeney’s face.

‘It’s ok, I just…’

‘I know.’

Of course he did. Slowly, Sweeney moved himself again. Shadow wanted to keep watching, to keep Sweeney’s face in view the whole time, but found himself lost at the first hint of pressure, eyes closed, head back, mouth open. Sweeney’s cock eased in to him unhurriedly, inch by inch, a slow, determined push. He hadn’t realised he was holding his breath. He let it go just as Sweeney gave a finial, careful thrust, filling him completely. When he opened his eyes, Sweeney was leaning back over him.

‘Ok?’

He didn’t need to say it really, but it felt good to hear. Something normal perhaps, in the middle of things that really didn’t seem real. Shadow nodded. He wasn’t sure he was completely capable of speech. He kissed him instead, and felt Sweeney’s mouth curl in to a smile.

Despite everything, Shadow hadn’t really given much thought to how this would go. As Sweeney began to move again, he realised he had been expecting something angry, needful and greedy. Everything about Sweeney, and all their time together so far, would suggest it. And Shadow had wanted that – fuck, had he wanted that! But now he was surprised again by tenderness. He felt Sweeney’s mind at peace, his focus only on Shadow, his pace steady. Each long stroke back and forth, each pulse of his hips and as he drove back in, every action deliberate and slow. Even his hands on Shadow’s hips held him lightly. And even though it wasn’t what he expected, it was everything. Shadow could feel himself open with every stroke, pulling Sweeney deeper. Electricity pricked his skin, running from the base of his skull to the arches of his feet. He wanted to buck and fight like before, to feel the blood surge, the sharpness of teeth. He wanted the rage, and he knew it would feel so good. But this. This slow torture. This was better.

 A calm had settled on Sweeney. His gaze was soft but focused, moving from Shadow’s face to the place where their bodies met, biting his lip. Shadow began to rock his hips in time with him, meeting every thrust with one of his own, a desperate attempt to have more, and be deeper. His own cock felt thick and wet, painfully untouched. Sweeney, in silent reply, wrapped his hand around it. The sudden heat made Shadow gasp, the shock pushing his body in harder spasms, but still Sweeney would only move slowly. His hand moved in time with the rest of him, Shadow’s cock moving slickly across his palm as he fucked him.

As Sweeney leaned forward to kiss him again, Shadow took his chance. He wrapped his legs around him, forcing him deeper, trying to take control. But pinned there beneath him, he could do little more than moan and sigh as Sweeney continued to work him at the pace he chose. Face to face again, mouth just hanging out of reach. The expression on Sweeney’s face somewhere deep and dark. Thick and heavy, the slap of skin on skin. The smell of his breath. Back and forth, deeper and deeper. Rocking him slowly towards the edge again. The electricity began to crackle and burn. It felt tight and warm. He wrapped his arms around Sweeney’s shoulders and held him there, pressed hard against his chest, his face buried in his neck, lost in him, lost in it all. Any moment now. Any fucking moment now. _don't stop don’t stop don’t stop I need you I need you I need you don’t stop don’t stop. Was that me or him? I don’t care don’t stop don’t stop please I want this I want you I want you please_

Shadow came first, grunting in to Sweeney’s neck, biting down in to the flesh of his shoulder at the last moment. It was that that pushed Sweeney over the edge seconds later, bucking and sweating, swearing in Gaelic. The room seemed to pulse softly around them, quietly, quietly. The rearrangement of atoms falling back in to their proper place, the settling of breath, the quietening of the blood. In the aftermath, they lay entangled. To move was to have to face a new reality, and it felt too fresh to be looked at so directly. Shadow rested his face against the side of Sweeney’s, as it lay there in the hallow of his neck. One hand, still at his back, trailed lazily up to his hair to bury itself in the messy red mohawk. _If we stay like this, I wouldn’t care_. Could Sweeney hear him still? He made no sound. Shadow closed his eyes and waited, trying to open his mind out towards him, but nothing came. He wanted to laugh then, managing to stifle it before it ruined the calm. When a man is naked, his fingers intertwined with yours, and his taste still in your mouth, did you really need to read his mind to know what he felt? Really, was there anything that was left to know? The room was completely dark now, save for the glow of the TV. In a little while, they would need to get under the blanket. But for now, enough.

 

 

 

Day 1

Sweeney woke with Shadow under his arm, his face resting on his ribs. A little flicker of tension ran up his spine, and with it, a palpable urge to panic. But just as quickly, the memory of where he was and why came back in to view and he felt the anxiety begin to uncoil from around his bones like loosening wire. He thought about waking him. But then there would be conversation. He thought about trying to sneak away, but then there would be more conversation, and worse. He had not yet decided what he wanted to say. What could you say? What exactly did he want? He looked across at the man still sleeping at his side and considered him carefully. Hadn’t he tried this thing before? _And how exactly did that go, you fuck?_ He chided himself for allowing it to go so far. Someone like Shadow could never really understand. Someone like Shadow, so bound to earth and time. _And yet._ He was dragged from his thoughts by the sound of Shadow waking, and watched with intent all the expressions that crossed his face, looking keenly for any trace of doubt, of disgust, of regret. He was happy not to find any. He was disappointed that he cared. He was angry at himself for being disappointed. He swallowed, unwrapped his arm from around Shadow’s shoulder, and sat a little further up in bed, waiting. He wasn’t sure what for. He didn’t even realise he was waiting. But as Shadow slowly came back in to full consciousness, he realised that it wasn’t there. On the surface, everything looked the same. Everything felt the same. He smiled thinly as Shadow smiled at him, rubbing his eyes and stretching, and wondered if he could sense it too. The thing that was missing. As Shadow sat up, and the last traces of sleep fell away, he caught the flash of panic in his eye and he knew he felt it too. Or rather didn’t feel it. The hollowness in the core of him. The space where the other had been. The bond was gone.

‘Do you…?’

‘Yeah. I do. I think… I think, maybe, it’s over.’

Shadow looked down at his hands as if the answer was somehow in his empty palms. When he looked back to Sweeney, he seemed sad. Seemed, of course, because now all Sweeney had to go on was guesswork. _How the fuck did anyone do this thing normally?_ He couldn’t remember. It was like trying to speak an entirely new language.

‘I don’t understand. I don’t get what’s changed.’

Sweeney shrugged.

‘I guess it just….went.’

He hesitated.

‘It’s what we wanted. Maybe Wednesday finally decided to help out.’

He didn’t believe that for a moment; that old fuck would have kept this thing going for a good while longer, just to amuse himself. And in the end, the why and how didn’t really matter. This was the new reality. Alone again. Of course. Maybe now he could convince Wednesday to let him go, and get as far away from this mess as possible. He’d go find him this morning and make the deal, no point in dragging this out any longer. There were a couple of cars that he could jack in the lot. He’d be on the road by lunch. And then he could just….

His thoughts were interrupted by Shadow kissing him. Holding his face in his hands, pulling him in. He felt his cock begin to swell again in response. _Alright, alright, maybe…. Maybe…._

‘Ok?’

‘Yeah. I just thought… It’s alright, it was nothing.’

‘You wanna find some breakfast?’

‘Ok.’

‘Ok.’

_Yeah alright. Maybe. I’ll try._

_We can try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand we'll leave it there I think. Thank you to everyone who left comments and gave feedback, I thrive off your attention :) Thank you also for reading this far, and being patient as I tried to wrangle this last chapter in to something (hopefully) readable and (hopefully) good. Cheers!


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